Two weeks passed. They’d only gone to Guernsey because of Callum’s brother’s behavior, and Guernsey’s status as a suitable elopement destination, but he was pleased that they had come here.

“Are you happy?” he asked as they strolled through Saint Peter Port.

She gave a wobbly smile, and Callum cursed himself. Of course, she couldn’t be simply happy. Not when her physician had given her a death sentence. No amount of vibrant, blooming flowers, no amount of sunshine spattered shorelines, no amount of crisp blue water, could change that.

“I am happy,” she said. “More than I thought possible.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he beamed. “Splendid. We can explore the other islands. Jersey is supposed to be quite spectacular.”

She smiled, but something about it made him gaze at her sharply.

“You want to return?”

She nodded. “This has been so marvelous, but my parents...”

His heart clenched again. “I could send for them.”

“I don’t want to worry them.”

“They must know sometime.”

“I-I know.”

Charlotte’s illness hung between them.

Callum led Charlotte to the harbor. A ship towered over the cheerfully painted fishing boats docked at Saint Peter Port and emanated sophistication. Sailors in striped shirts moved decisively over the deck, repeating steps they had made their whole lives.

“If you would like, we can take this ship tomorrow morning. Lord Braunschweig and his sister are planning to travel back to London on it. It’s smaller than the one we came here on and it only goes to Portsmouth. But we could take the ship and then take a carriage from Portsmouth to London, stopping to visit my manor house in Hampshire. We can wait for the larger ship of course, but that departs in five days, so we would reach London at the same time. I thought you might enjoy seeing more things.”

“That sounds splendid.”

Charlotte tilted her head, and her blond locks billowed in the breeze. Her smile had seemed to grow more serious. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. But I am going to take you to every specialist the city has.”

“Doctor Hutton is the best.”

“Then I will take your whole family to Bath and drag you to all the best doctors there. And then to Tunbridge. And then to Harrogate.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened, and he kneeled beside her.

Blast it.

He was going to tell her. These two weeks had been amazing. He wanted to tell her that she’d become everything to him.

That he adored her. That he loved her.

The words hung on the tips of his lips to be released.

But still...

He hesitated.

Would her lips quiver and would she admit similar feelings? Or would she grow more pale, unsure how to tell him that his feelings were not reciprocated?

He didn’t want her to feel forced. They’d entered the marriage without love, with a careful contract, and he didn’t desire to change the terms on her, and make her live as if it were a love match for her.

After all, she’d just declared a desire to return to England.

She’d been so cool and collected when she’d outlined the terms to him.

So instead, he turned toward the ship. “I’ll purchase us tickets.”

She nodded, and he hurried up the gangway, unsure what sorts of secrets he might reveal, were he to remain in her presence.

He craved her.

He yearned for her.

Images of her flashed through his head constantly, whether she was before him or not, and he smiled when he remembered their conversations. There were so many things he wanted to show her, but when he was with her, his tongue seemed to thicken, and his words did not leave his mouth in elegant flourishes.

He’d told her his deepest secret, and she hadn’t been shocked. She hadn’t abhorred him, and she hadn’t even looked at him differently. She’d only squeezed his hand and murmured sweet things to him.

*

THE SHIP SEEMED TO be making its very best attempt at ensuring disaster. The waves seemed to have mistaken the ship for a cricket ball, and each wave seemed to be under the assumption it was a cricket bat and seemed determined to fling the ship farther than the other.

It was all Callum’s fault. If only he hadn’t suggested to take Charlotte to the Channel Islands. A woman like her should be safe, on the ground, where no water could flood her surroundings, and no wooden walls might break apart about her, hurling splinters with the nonchalance of a rain shower.

He shouldn’t have allowed his brother to thwart Charlotte’s and his carefully planned wedding day, and he certainly shouldn’t have suggested they elope on an island.

The furniture might be barricaded to the walls, but the pillow had developed a habit of flying to odd corners of the room, and the only reason the blanket hadn’t joined was because Callum and Charlotte were clutching onto it.

Charlotte.

He was very aware of her presence.

His thoughts should have been focused on visions of impending death.

That would have been logical, despite his reassurances to Charlotte.

He’d been in storms before, but never ones of quite such intensity. Never ones that pitched the ship in every direction. If he had a less strong stomach, he might have been experiencing physical agony, but the only distraction in this room was Charlotte.

His body seemed to be delighting in her presence, despite the fact death seemed to be peering infuriatingly close. She’d pressed her small hands against his chest, as if his ribs alone would give her comfort.

Well, she was not wrong to do that.

He would do damn everything he could to protect her.

If the ship sank into the water, he would haul her in his arms and carry her through the water-filled corridors so they might escape into the ocean. This vessel was not going to become their coffin. If the ship split, if lightning struck the great mast, he would swim with her to safety. No waves, no matter their strength, could lessen his resolve to protect her.

She’s everything.

The lantern crashed, and he blinked into inky darkness. Broken glass rattled on the floor, and he clutched her closer to him.

Her breasts pressed against his side. They were soft and alluring, and his body ached with an urge to run his fingers over them, to clasp them, to kiss them.

How had he possibly dismissed her?

He moved his hand gently over her body, as if to ascertain that she was really there beside him.

*

EVERYTHING WAS DARK, and everything should have been dreadful.

The ship, for all its modern wonders of constructions, was struggling. The thunderstorm roared above them, and she clasped Callum more tightly.

Callum.

She shouldn’t be looking for him for comfort.

She shouldn’t be so predictable.

Perhaps he was her husband, but they both knew he’d not taken on the position out of a desire to hold her through the night.

She removed her hands from his chest and inched toward the end of the bed.

The task was not difficult.

The bed’s width was of the narrow variety; it was not meant for two people. She should never have succumbed to her fear to begin with, should never have joined him here at all.

Thunder sounded again. Its low baritone rumbled over her. Sailors shouted above them, and she imagined lightning rushing down from the sky, the silver streaks illuminating for a terrifying second the crashing of the waves against the ship. Had the lighting struck the ship? She froze.

All the money of the ship magnate who’d built this ship, all the centuries of knowledge on ship building, all the decades of skill of the sailors—if nature decided to have a ferocious storm, none of those things could prevent the destruction of the ship and all of their deaths.

How arbitrary life could be. How very odd the duke had happened to spot her cart, had happened to require a bride, and they’d married and ended up here together. When they’d sailed to Guernsey, the crossing had been calm and smooth, but now the whole world had shifted.

No stars would be visible now. The sky would be opaque, and no one would be wondering at the world’s beauty, only at its power.

“Charlotte?” Rustling sounded. “You can be closer. If you want.”

Charlotte was silent, and she fought the temptation to roll back into his arms and grasped onto the end of the bed.

She couldn’t allow herself to be seen as so vulnerable. Would he be laughing to himself at the manner in which she would clutch him toward herself? Would he be uncomfortable, bracing himself through the experience as he might during a particularly unpleasant meeting at his club?

“You can’t be at ease,” he said again.

The ship continued to pitch, as if to push her toward him, and she tightened her hands on the bed, as the ship rolled through the waves, fighting gravity’s determination to topple her toward the floor.

“I see,” Callum said, his voice more quiet. “I can go on the floor.”

“There’s glass on the floor,” she said quickly. The man shouldn’t hurt himself.

The thunder roared again, more ferocious than any lion, and the world shook. She tightened her grip again, but this time even she could not stay on the bed.

She pitched over the ledge, and despite her instincts to retain some semblance of dignity, she squealed.

In the next moment, strong arms were around her, pulling her toward him. She wrapped her arms around him instinctively, noting the breadth of his chest and inhaling his masculine scent.

She forced her eyes shut, but the room was already dark, and no change occurred. Nothing could banish the man’s comforting clutch or his appealing scent.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said soothingly.

“We’re going to die,” she said.

“Nonsense,” he said, and he managed to sound so utterly confident that she smiled.

“Death is not the plan for tonight,” he said.

“Then what is?” Her voice wobbled, and she felt blood rush to her cheeks.

At least the room was dark.

At least he couldn’t see her.

But the blanket rustled again, and he came closer to her.

“This is,” he said, in his tenor voice.

In the next moment, she was being kissed.

Callum had kissed her before, of course.

Those kisses had been strong and forceful, highlighting a passion she wasn’t supposed to feel, and one which she knew he certainly did not feel. Those kisses normally were the province of milkmaids and shepherds, people who didn’t need to abide by society’s rules.

This kiss was tender, despite the hammer of waves against the ship. The world might be turning this way and that, threatening to sink into an abyss of salty water, inhabited by vicious, unseeing sea creatures and the algae upon which they typically satisfied themselves, but right now, Callum was beside her and life felt not nearly as threatening.

Heavens, she craved him.

The man’s salty scent tantalized her nostrils, and she adored the rough feel of his cheeks as they brushed against hers. Shaving was not advisable during turbulent seas, and she felt a thrill to witness him in a state not seen by others in the ton.

This was Callum, and right now, he was hers.

At least, he seemed to be giving every indication of desiring to be hers.

His lips brushed against hers. The touch was so gentle it ushered an undulation of yearning through her.

His mouth moved everywhere. He claimed her cheeks, her throat, even her earlobes.

Everything sent tremors rushing through her. He was beside her, on top of her, and life was absolutely heavenly.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said.

And she was. Her heart didn’t hurt, and her breath didn’t come out in strange bursts.

“I should stop,” he said, but she didn’t miss the hint of longing, the hint of regret emitted through his voice.

So she swept him into her arms. This time she kissed him. This time her lips sought his. She repeated the movements his lips had made, but this time there was more, as if her action had caused him to unrestrain himself, like a horse freed from an unwelcome harness and eager to gallop about a field.

She should feel more hesitant. The doctor had been clear that she was to have no excitement. And yet the only thing that seemed to be possible to cause her to distress was to not be with him, to not feel him beside her, to not clutch him, to not have his lips claim hers, his hands—

The man’s hands were moving in a most intriguing fashion about her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

“The lantern is out.”

He chuckled. “I haven’t forgotten your appearance. Besides, I can feel you.” He brushed his fingers over her body, as if finding pleasure in her mere shape.

The sky thundered again, but this time it seemed fainter. She wasn’t certain whether it was because they were moving from the storm, or if Callum had such power over her.

She smiled.

Of course, he had such power.

I love him.